The Pointy End
by JAE NI
Summary: It's such a simple thing, and yet why can't he just do it? (Maiko Fluff Week 2019, day 2: Protect)


**A\N: Yes, I'm a month late, but I missed writing maiko stuff, so here I am. Also, this is an old draft that I only managed to finish now. It's not as polished as I wanted, but with the mess that is my life now, it's the best I can get. But hey, it's Maiko! Maiko is always good!**

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Mai loved practicing. She really did.

It was a little tedious and dull, but whenever she took the time to practice her knife throwing, darts throwing, or any kind of projectile throwing, she was comfortable. The sound of the target being hit always gave her a small proud feeling, even though it was too easy, even though she was always alone in a confined room.

Of course, it would always end quickly, unless she was trying a really troublesome routine, or trying to perfect a new move or weapon, in which case she would end up staying a little more than one hour in the practice room. But the short time she needed to spend on it was part of the reason why she loved practicing.

However, at that specific moment, she thought practice was a torture.

"I missed it again!" Zuko's cry of frustration could have been funny or at least amusing in any other situation. But at that moment it was annoying, so Mai rolled her eyes to not give in to the temptation of throwing her knife at him.

"Of course you did," she said through her clenched teeth, "You suck at this."

She walked to the few fallen knives, five feet away from the target they were using, hoping he would now stop being stubborn and finally go to anywhere else, putting an end to her agony.

"But, how? I aimed them perfectly!" Mai didn't have to stare at him to know that he was with his eyes bulged incredulously, even though this outcome was pretty much just as expected.

"If you did, you wouldn't have missed it."

Her hopes of peace at last were crushed when he walked towards her, hands raised to take the knives back, ready for a new endless set of throws. So she held them protectively, not very eager to watch him fail helplessly and disturbing her own practice time.

At her reluctance, Zuko took a deep breath, eyes shining with a new determination. When he spoke again, his voice wasn't whiny nor angry, "Let me do it again, I'll get it right this time."

"You won't get it right that fast. It took months of practice for me…"

"Just give me the knives."

Mai sighed and pushed the knives to his chest and walking away to sit in the corner of the room. Between hours of annoyance at his insistence and a heated argument around pointy objects, she decided to just let her boyfriend have his way.

The first throw went straight to the floor and she grunted out loud. The second hit the vicinity of the target, but it just bounced off the wall and fell down to the floor. One would think, by this pattern, that he was showing progress, and that the third would come closer to the bull's eye, or finally perforate the practicing wood, but she had seen enough to know that it was just dumb luck, and he would oscillate between getting better and getting worse.

Finally, she grows tired of watching. Any other day she would love to just ogle at him practicing; she used to do it so often and so attentively to his movements, that she had basically memorized the way his body fluidly moved during his firebending routine.

And that was what was annoying her the most right now.

"You're moving as if you're bending," she mutters.

"What?" Her comment puzzled him, but he stopped throwing the knives for a second, so she took it as a win.

"The knife. Your posture. Your aiming. The way you throw," Mai explained vaguely, still too impatient with him to offer substantial help.

That time her anger didn't pass by unnoticed by him, so he quickly changed his question to a more submissive tone, "What do you mean by that?"

Mai only stared at him silently for a few seconds, trying hard to ignore the way his eyes glinted in expectation, just like a puppy hoping to be taken out for a walk. So she sighed, thinking that if she provided a more detailed explanation he'd get it right at least once and then leave her alone, and she approached him.

"Your arm." She held it and slowly moved it just like he was doing a few moments ago, and then paused, freezing it midair, "Here. You start it right, but then you do this, like when you are bending." Mai let go of his arm and moved around him as he stood perfectly still, paying careful attention to her instructions. Then she tapped on his back, pointing something else out, "Your posture. This. It's too stiff. Your moves have to flow smoothly for the knife to fly properly." She held his hand that wielded the knife and, leaning her face close to his shoulder, rose it a bit higher, "You have to aim even higher than this. Steel is heavier than flames, so it loses altitude easily. And the strength. You're going too light. You need to give enough power to the knife, so it will pierce the wall, not just hit it."

"Okay, I got it."

"Did you really?" Her face got a little brighter, the hope that she would be able to leave the practice room in the near future growing on her. Maybe he could do it. He was smart, maybe not a genius nor a prodigy, but he had a brilliant mind nevertheless. He could understand that and just hit the target at least once.

"No, I have no idea of what you just said," he deadpanned and she felt like tearing at her hair.

"For crying out loud, Zuko!" She actually shrieked in frustration, her patient gone to the point that she couldn't even keep a straight face anymore, "Aren't you a twin sword user? Don't you know at least the basics?"

"I never had to throw them!" He shrieked back, frustrated at himself as well, but refusing to give up, "I could use firebending for that!"

"Then keep using them. Quit the knife throwing mania."

Mai's position was final and unshakeable. She was not going to stay another hour in there, helping him to achieve something he most certainly wasn't going to in one single afternoon. Otherwise, if she spent one more minute supervising his practice, she'd end up actually hating him – and knives.

Zuko, however, refuses to relent.

"But I need a different skill. What if something happens and I'm momentarily incapable of firebending?"

"Just use with your damn swords."

"But what if…"

Mai's sharp glance made him stop his sentence halfway and just forget about protesting. And that was when, after seeing his distressed and troubled expression, she hesitated and felt her irritation subside a little bit.

She had been a nonbender for her entire life, she was used to not having bending as a resource. But the prospects of being completely out of touch with it would be dreadful for someone who had been reliant on bending through most of their lives. And yes, Zuko was quite proficient with his swords, but as knife-thrower, Mai knew better than anyone that, unlike firebending, they were a limited resource.

Of course, she could handle herself. In a world where benders were the supreme force of a nation, she learned very early how to defend herself and survive. But perhaps for someone used to always having a boundless source of power, it was too scary to suddenly be faced with a restricted amount and reach of weaponry, just like he did during the Solar Eclipse. And because of that - because she just couldn't handle when he looked at her like that - Mai felt the need to reassure him, even if it was just a bit. Even if she wasn't used to it.

"If you're benderless and your swords are suddenly gone, you know you don't have to worry, right?" She felt weird by saying stuff like that directly, but since it was him needing some comfort, she would look past her embarrassment and just try to lift his mood, "You'll have me to protect you."

Zuko finally settled his hands then, and didn't try to resist when she took her knives back. On the contrary, he smiled like a goofy little boy, all of the uneasiness gone, as he teased her.

"I don't need any protection," he said with a laugh.

"Of course you do! You're lame and you need me for everything," she raised her voice for the second time, which was a clear sign of just how much Zuko managed to irk her. Seeing that he wasn't disappointed in the slightest, and was only trying to convince her with his teary eyes, made all of her compassion and gentleness fade away, "Now, pick up your swords. I've got a lot of pent up frustration and I know exactly the best target to get rid of it."

Mai had never seen a more satisfied target before.


End file.
